


Knead

by kunstaeilation



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, Dry Humping, Kissing at Midnight, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunstaeilation/pseuds/kunstaeilation
Summary: Mark has a cold and Jungwoo is convinced that a hot toddy and a massage will cure what ails him.
Relationships: Kim Jungwoo/Mark Lee (NCT)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 112
Collections: NCT Rarepair Winter Bingo





	Knead

**Author's Note:**

> fair warning, this is COMPLETELY unbetaed and finished in less than 2 days to try and make it in time for christmas. i feel like it could be better, but it is what it is ง •̀_•́)ง anyway, merry christmas and happy holidays to all you lovely people <3
> 
> bingo for rarepair: surprise visit, ice skating, midnight kiss, presents, blizzard

Snow slowly drifts down to the ground, each flake swaying and spinning before covering everything in a fluffy blanket of white. Ruddy-faced children screech and squeal as they play in the snow building snowmen and forts, throwing snowballs at one another. Their footsteps will soon be gone within the night wiped clean by the endless snowfall and leaving them a new canvas to work with in the morning, but for now they make their marks with their footprints and snow angels and leave behind forgotten mitts and hats.

_ Knock, knock, knock _ .

Mark stirs from his slumber groggily opening his eyes and blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings, the shapes and blobs come together to form a picture of a hotel room.  _ That’s right _ , he thinks to himself.  _ We’re in Russia _ . He’s supposed to be out filming with all the others right now but as luck would have it, he’s sick. As if on cue, a cough hurtles out his mouth and he groans to himself, his chest aching from the exertion. The knocking repeats itself and he crawls out of bed dragging his feet across the carpet using the wall for support as he makes his way over the door.

A familiar head of blonde hair greets him through the peephole and he opens the door. “Jungwoo,” he croaks out before turning away to cough.

“Did I wake you?” the boy quietly asks as he lets himself in. Mark nods and Jungwoo gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Manager-hyung said there’s a blizzard coming and I got too scared staying by myself. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out. His throat is on fire and his chest feels like there’s icicles scraping at him from within. HIs head too feels heavy and sluggish like the rest of his body. “There’s a blizzard?” he flops into bed and stares out the window. The brick buildings and colorful rooftops surrounding them have all but disappeared, hidden by a blur of white that has begun to pick up. Already, the wind is howling and screeching at them rattling the windows every now and then. 

Jungwoo winces and the mattress creaks as he sits down next to him. “Yeah. Manager-hyung called and told me they’re going to be back late cause of it. Said it’s going to last at least a few hours.” 

Mark numbly nods, the words barely making sense in his clogged up brain. All the back to back activities between SuperM and NCT have finally come crashing down upon him and now he’s sick—right before Christmas, no less. He catches Jungwoo staring at him and realizes that he asked if he’s taken any medicine. “Mm,” he burrows beneath the blankets. “I ran out though.”

“Ran out? Don’t you have more?” Mark shakes his head as another cough wracks his body and Jungwoo’s brows knit together into a frown before lighting up. “I know what you need!” he suddenly exclaims. “A hot toddy!” 

A hot toddy, Mark soon learns, is essentially heated whiskey and honey and a traditional drink for colds and flus. Where Jungwoo learned such a thing, he could only guess. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the wisest idea to listen to him and his zany ideas. It probably was an even worse idea to drink not one but two of them on an empty stomach. The warm drink had been soothing to his scratchy throat and the sting of whiskey helped clear up his sinuses, but he didn’t account for the fact that it would incapacitate him so.

“Man,” his tongue feels thick and floppy in his mouth, “Why did I let you talk me into this?” 

“Cause you’re sick and out of medicine,” Jungwoo doesn’t even glance at him as he continues flipping through the channels before giving up and tossing the remote aside. The sounds of cheering followed by a moment of silence has him perking his head up and squinting at the TV. Some ice skating competition is on and Mark stares at it for a minute before flopping back down on the bed, too woozy to care. 

He feels Jungwoo shifting around beside him and before he knows it, he has his hand in his lap. “What are you doing?” Mark turns and asks.

“Giving you your Christmas present,” Jungwoo replies matter-of-factly, sinking his thumbs into his palm. Each press soothes away a pain that Mark didn’t realize was there: the fleshy part of his thumb, the webs of his fingers, even his wrist. It’s like Jungwoo knows exactly where to massage so it feels best, how to ease his muscles and ease his cold. 

Jungwoo grabs his arm and flexes his hand back stretching his wrist out before flipping the motion. “God,” Mark slurs out. “Feels good.” 

He glimpses a smile on Jungwoo’s lips as his eyes slip shut. For the first time in the past few months, Mark finds himself relaxing beneath Jungwoo’s gentle touch. All that work had kept him more than just busy as he ran between schedules for two groups, eating and sleeping wherever and whenever he could. It was all he could do to keep up at times, Taeyong and their manager being his only constant company. Jungwoo moves to his forearms next and Mark groans to himself barely noticing how those hands pauses for a moment before continuing on. 

Work, work, work. That’s all he’s done. That’s all he does. Whatever his schedule says, he follows without so much as a complaint. He enjoys all the activity after all—thrives on it, even. This past month had been hard, however. It was schedule after schedule flying between Korea and the US then back to Korea and then Japan. Endless schedules, endless flying, endless work. 

Now, he was finally nearing his last bit of work for the year—just a music video to film, a few days off for the holidays, and then New Year’s specials before a guaranteed week of peace. Or at least it should’ve been. They could delay the filming by a day sure, but two would be pushing it and three would just mess up everybody’s schedule, especially his own and Taeyong’s. Mark starts coughing once more, groaning at being sick during a crucial time of the year. 

Jungwoo rubs at his back, fretting and fussing over him. “Poor Mark,” he mumbles. “Sick before Christmas. Are you sure you don’t want another drink?” he peers at him and Mark quickly shakes his head no. His limbs had been heavy enough already without the alcohol, but now the liquid coursed through his blood weighing him down even more.

“Just a massage,” he rasps out. “I think it’s helping with my cold.” Jungwoo obliges him and nods, nudging him onto his stomach before going straight back to where he left off pressing at his biceps in all the right spots.

“Feels good,” he sighs with every squeeze, eyes rolling back. It’s been so long since Mark’s last had a massage that all his muscles are locked up tight. Jungwoo comments as much and spends his time working out all the kinks and knots that have built up over the months. 

Each painful touch is like lightning dancing across his skin and Mark can’t help the sounds pouring out of him glad for the pillow muffling his mouth, but it’s not enough. He’s painfully aware of how he sounds, how he looks writhing and whimpering but if Jungwoo takes any notice, he doesn’t let Mark know. Instead he continues on, learning how to read each of his sounds. Tense silence means he’s going too hard, a sigh means he’s not working hard enough, and a groan means that things are just right. 

His voice soon fades into a background noise of the room mingling with the Russian and classical music coming from the TV and the shrieking of the wind. Down, down, down Jungwoo’s hands go only ever lingering on especially tight spots: the base of his neck, the tops of his shoulders, the middle of his back. 

“I need to get a massage more often,” Mark mumbles, his words a garbled mess coming out of his mouth, “‘o good.” The massage, the alcohol, the cold—they all have him feeling more than just relaxed. He’s completely useless, body leaden and heavy, limbs flopping down onto the bed whenever Jungwoo picks them up. 

Bit by bit, Jungwoo wrings out the knots and soothes away his cold with every touch. The months of work and stress melt away, room fading into something cozy and warm. Even his throat and lungs—raw, scratchy, and hoarse from all the coughing—the pain slips away like it was never there in the first place, replaced by a warm buzz that tingles across his skin. He’s almost fast asleep when Jungwoo moves to the soles of his feet next, the pleasurable pain rousing him and drawing a particularly loud moan from his lips.

“D-does it hurt?” Jungwoo pauses. If he weren’t so drunk on both the alcohol and the massage, Mark would’ve laughed at the sound of alarm in Jungwoo’s voice, but his mind is too much of a muddled mess for it right now. 

“No,” Mark slurs out a half whine at the loss of warmth on his feet. “It feels good. Real good. Keep going,” he insists before tacking on a sloppy  _ please _ . 

With every knuckle pressing across his tired soles, Mark finds himself slipping even further into relaxation, no longer caring to muffle himself anymore. The pillow’s too stuffy for him to breath through so he shoves it aside in favor of resting his head across his forearms.

Jungwoo spends his time on his feet sliding his thumbs across them, squeezing down each toe, stretching his ankle out forward and back. His calves are next and Mark swears if there was a heaven, this would be it. He had no idea that they could be this tight and the way Jungwoo smooths the heel of his palm into the muscle has him drooling and sighing. Jungwoo finds a particularly tight spot and Mark hisses. “Harder,” he demands, enjoying the painful roll of muscle beneath Jungwoo’s hands. 

The back of his knees, his thighs—all of his muscles tight and knotted, but then something new begins to happen. Each squeeze comes with a different pleasure, a pleasure that goes straight to his groin. As soon as he realizes, Mark tries to snap his jaw shut and stem the noises that pour from his mouth but he can’t. He’s puddy in Jungwoo’s hands, weak and useless, unable to do anything except whine and moan. 

With every push, Mark’s cock grinds into the mattress. With every knead, he mewls and drools. Soon, he’s rock hard and leaking being forced to rut against the bed, but Jungwoo’s not quite done with him. Not yet. The warmth suddenly disappears and Mark loudly whines trying to hump the bed, but his body won’t listen to him. It doesn’t matter however because Jungwoo returns a second later straddling down on the back of his legs, hands moving up once more to his ass. 

Slowly, Jungwoo kneads and spreads his cheeks, squeezing them as he shoves Mark into the bed once more. It’s even better like this too with the extra weight on top of him and the legs trapping him in on either side. 

“-Woo,” he manages to find his voice. “Jungwoo.” But he doesn’t know what he wants to say. His mind is too addled, too drunk to string together a sentence. All he can do is feel, feel how his cock throbs and aches, feel how Jungwoo continues to spread him shoving his thumbs between his cheeks and stretching his hole through his pants.

“Hmm?” Jungwoo hums, his voice just as soft and airy like he wasn’t trying to push a finger in. “What is it? You enjoying your Christmas present?” 

“Yes,” he whimpers, tears prickling behind his eyes. “I love it.” He more than just loves it, too. He wants more, more of that ecstasy that borders on pain from the sheer amount of it all. It’s as if his skin is lit on fire, hypersensitive to everything that touches him: the stiff cotton of the sheets, the softer fabric of his clothes, the hands insistently stretching and pushing in. Even Jungwoo’s voice turns into another sort of touch that cuts at his skin like a knife of pleasure. 

“Good!” Mark can almost picture the beaming face and scrunched up cheeks if not for the, “Cause I have another gift for you.”

Jungwoo shifts on top of him, his body pressing down against him and trapping him between the mattress and his body. At first, Mark isn’t sure if that’s supposed to be his gift until he feels something hard and insistent on his ass.  _ Is that- _

Mark gasps as Jungwoo grinds down against his ass, pressing him into the mattress. Jungwoo wastes no time wrapping his arms around him and burying his face into his neck, his hips setting a pace that’s desperate and rough as he humps Mark. Even through their layers of clothes, he can feel the heat from his cock hot between his cheeks, rubbing the bunched fabric across his hole. 

What’s worse is how the entirety of Jungwoo surrounds him making him even drunk than he already was. His scent, a soft delicate floral mingling with the growing musk of sweat; his voice, soft melodious huffs at odds with the snap of his hips; his warmth, hot against Mark’s sticky skin. 

“Your ass feels so good,” Jungwoo mumbles into his ear and Mark shudders at the puff of hot air, the sensation zipping down his spine to his groin. “Imagine if I had my cock in you. God, you’d be so tight around me.” 

The words sound crude coming from Jungwoo and Mark whines at the thought, his cock throbbing and leaking leaving his boxers even damper than they had been. He can almost picture it, almost  _ feel _ it with the way Jungwoo continues to hump and thrust against his hole, lost in his own bliss. 

“I want to fuck your face too,” he adds, “Can I? Can I fuck your face?” 

Mark hisses and nods taking pleasure in each filthy word coming from that angelic mouth. It’s like lighter fuel driving him closer and closer to the edge and Jungwoo knows it, snaps speeding up and chafing his ass raw. Mark’s sure that by the time he wakes tomorrow his ass is going to burn and itch, but he doesn’t care not right now, not when it’s a taste of what’s to come in the future.

The familiar tingle lighting his skin comes sooner than expected yet not soon enough. With it comes the buzz making his face go numb and the ringing between his ears growing loud. With every grind of Jungwoo’s hips, the feeling grows and grows until that pool of heat deep within threatens to explode. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he cusses. “Fuck, Jungwoo. I’m clo-” 

A moan rolls off his lips as Jungwoo reaches down and shoves a hand down the front of his pants jerking him in time to his thrusts. Before he knows it, Mark’s seeing hot white as he whines and spills into Jungwoo’s hand, thighs quivering as spurt after spurt coats his hand and the front of his underwear. 

It’s only when he starts coming down from his high that he feels Jungwoo’s pace begin to falter, his orgasm more of a quiet whimper as he cradles Mark close to his chest, hips grinding and stuttering to a stop. 

Jungwoo lays on top of him for a long while, his heart hammering against his back as his chest heaves. He’s almost fallen asleep when Jungwoo finally rolls off of him, the movement pulling him out from the grip of sleep. Outside, a clocktower begins to chime. Once, twice, all the way to twelve.

_ Midnight _ , Mark stares out the window in surprise. The storm has long since cleared revealing the glimmer of stars high up above and the TV is no longer playing the ice skating competition. Jungwoo stirs beside him cuddling him close and resting his head on his chest before changing his mind and trying to give him a peck on the lips.

“Wait,” Mark leans away from him holding a hand up to fend off the advance. “You shouldn’t get too close to me. You’ll get sick.” 

“Don’t care,” Jungwoo fights him. “It’s Christmas and that can be my present from you.”

Mark stares at him for a long moment, hundreds of reasons why that was stupid coming to mind before relenting and pulling him in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Jungwoo,” he quietly says.

Jungwoo beams at him, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “Merry Christmas, Mark.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me~ i don't bite!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/kunstaeilation)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/kunstaeilation)


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